Renata Santos doesn't expect her heart to flutter when she catches a boy stealing flowers out of her backyard. But as she unravels his reputation, she realizes puppy-eyed delinquent Isaac Marshall may just be the sunshine she needs to turn her life...
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L E M O N
[citrus limon] ➳ discretion.
MY DOUBTS WASHED AWAY when I found Isaac by the lockers just before fourth period, hands tucked into his pockets and a devilish glint in his eye.
He led me into the classroom. All the while, I studied his backpack's outer pouches for traces of garden thievery, but it appeared he hadn't touched a flower all day.
Maybe that was why I felt his arm against mine when we padded through the door, our footsteps as light on the carpet as the feathery brush of his sleeve.
"What are you doing?" I whispered. He nudged me again and I nearly tripped on my feet. "Isaac."
"Sit with me," he said, crossing the room and tossing his belongings onto a desk in the back corner. He pulled out the empty chair. "It's an easy lesson today."
I narrowed my eyes, weaving through the desks to join him. "How do you know?"
"I pay attention, Ren."
"Knowing which classes you can slack off in doesn't qualify as paying attention."
After a moment of deliberation, I sank into the seat next to him, the skin on my neck exposed by my braid and prickling with anticipation. I knew what would happen now, and it involved twenty-something pairs of eyes in our direction.
But Isaac's grin was triumphant — I felt its heat filter through the air. "You run your finger along the collar of your shirt when you're stressed. Like, during tests," he said. "How's that?"
It took me a second to understand; I was too busy watching our classmates file into the room. They threw glances our way, amplifying the wave of paranoia in my chest.
"What?" I blurted out. Then realization slammed into me, and I felt the urge to fiddle with my shirt exactly as he'd described. "Wow. Um, that's just creepy."
He shrugged. "I've heard worse."
I was sure that he had. Creepy barely skimmed the surface of the rumours. Jackie's words from earlier in the day echoed in my head: people are kinda talking about it. I'd yet to hear my name pass anybody's lips, but I didn't doubt that it was true.
I just couldn't believe Jackie — studious, stumble-over-her-words Jackie Merritt — had the guts to bring it up with me.
"On that note," I said slowly, facing Isaac as chatter filled the classroom, "how well do you know Jackie Merritt?"
The way his jaw clenched should've been answer enough. But I lifted my eyebrows, prompting him to release a low groan. He deflated completely, eyes sliding shut with frustration and his posture crumbling as quickly as my resolve.
Part of me wanted to laugh, but I bit my tongue. "Never mind."
"God. Please tell me you're not friends with her," Isaac said, pinching the knot between his brows.
